Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
G raham stared up at the chateau, while Queen V and Prince Albert lumbered across the expansive lawn. I’d just finished giving him a tour of the grounds, the dry moat, and the chateau itself. After having been away for nearly two weeks, I felt as if I were viewing the project with fresh eyes.
Luc and the team had accomplished a lot while I’d been gone, but even so, I could only imagine how it appeared to Graham. Was he regretting his investment? Thinking the restoration was ill-fated?
So far, I’d done everything I could to live up to my end of the deal. Before leaving LA, we’d attended a charity function, and I was still thinking about it. Graham had done such a good job that night, even I’d been hard-pressed to remember it was all pretend. With his front brushing my back, his hands skimming my body… I shivered at the memory. At the way his deep voice had sounded when he’d called me his queen and asked if I liked being watched.
Holy hell.
I’d been ready to throw myself at him. To let him do whatever he wanted with me, right there, right then, regardless of who might be watching. Maybe even because they were watching.
What is wrong with me?
This was a fake marriage. My husband had hacked my blog. Though, some of my anger had since faded.
Graham was trying to make amends. He’d insisted on helping me beef up the cybersecurity on my blog and YouStream channel. He’d also had a team from Hudson Security install security cameras at the chateau, both for insurance purposes and to enable me to see what was going on.
And, okay, so I was attracted to him. I told myself that wasn’t a bad thing. That spark made it easier to convince everyone else we were a happily married couple.
“You should be proud of yourself,” Graham said.
I eyed him skeptically. Was he mocking me? I didn’t think so. He sounded sincere.
“I mean it, Lil. What you’ve done is incredible. The scope of this project…” He shook his head, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he surveyed the chateau. “I don’t think I fully comprehended it until I was standing here, seeing everything you’ve accomplished.”
I wanted to bask in his praise, like a flower that finally felt the sun after a long, cold winter. It was so nice to have someone see what I’d done and appreciate it. Someone whose opinion I respected. Someone I admired.
My family—and most of the locals—might think I’d lost my mind, but Graham believed in me. And that meant more than… I sucked in a jagged breath. More than he could ever know.
I dipped my head, using my hair as a curtain. “Thanks.” Needing to break the tension, I said, “You may not be as impressed when you see our accommodations.”
The word brought to mind Knox’s yacht and the night Graham and I had shared a bed. Since then, we’d returned to our separate rooms and separate beds at his penthouse. I knew it was for the best, but I still found myself wishing for a way back to that space. To that intimacy, communication, and connection.
We’d been so in sync.
I often fell asleep thinking of that night, remembering the way he’d touched me. Looked at me. As if I really were his jewel, as he’d called me in French. Something rare and precious that he wanted to protect.
He was still parsimonious with his words, reserved. But it felt as if he were thawing. Softening. He’d ask me questions about the chateau or my travels. My family and my dreams. And I’d ask him about his. It was nice.
I’d made several appearances at Graham’s office, and we’d gone to lunch. But we’d also shared some dinners at home, alone. We’d even taken the dogs on walks together, and I knew he was trying. But every night, I’d returned to my bedroom, spending my nights alone.
I told myself it was for the best. I told myself this was what I’d wanted. And yet my body craved his touch.
Messy, I reminded myself. It was too messy, and there was too much riding on the success of our agreement.
“I was wondering about our living space,” he mused, bringing me back to the present. “I noticed you left it off your tour.”
I shrugged as if to say, “Guilty.”
He gave my shoulder a playful shake. He’d been doing that more lately—touching me. At the gala. In the kitchen. Even now, when no one was watching. I didn’t want to like it, but I did.
“Come on,” he said. “It can’t be that bad.”
I rolled my lips between my teeth. “Mm-hmm.”
It was probably even worse than whatever he’d imagined. And compared to his luxury LA penthouse, it was practically a shack in the woods. Yes, we were staying in part of the chateau, but it was still very rustic.
That said, it was one of the few parts of the chateau that was actually habitable. It had running water, was tucked out of the way of the construction, and was private.
“This way,” I said, heading for the entrance to my living quarters.
I’d been meaning to do a video on it; it was one of my subscribers’ most frequently asked questions. Apart from how much the restoration was going to cost. But that was anyone’s guess.
Thanks to Graham’s investment, though—that was what I’d decided to call it—I could move forward with a ton of projects I’d been putting off. I’d already spoken to my lead architect about them, and I couldn’t wait to get back to work myself.
I opened the door to my apartment within the chateau. It was nestled in the basement, though you entered at ground level since it was located in the dry moat. I cringed, imagining Graham’s reaction to the spartan accommodations.
The internet was spotty. The linens were old but soft and clean. And I hadn’t put much effort into the decor—hadn’t had the time or desire. Besides, this was just temporary.
One day, I’d move in to a larger, more modern apartment in the chateau. I’d have shutters that opened to a view of the gardens. A fully functioning kitchen, laundry room so I wouldn’t have to venture into town every time I needed to wash clothes. Which, considering how hard construction was on mine, was often. I also envisioned a large, rainfall shower and—best of all—hot water.
But for now, I lived simply, and it suited my needs. At least, it had.
Now that Graham and I were married, now that I’d spent the past week at his penthouse, I worried he wouldn’t be comfortable here. It was much smaller than his place, and I hadn’t considered how intimate it would feel to share such a cozy space with him.
“Here’s the kitchen and dining.” I gestured to my basic food storage, mini fridge, and hot plate. There was a simple farm table with two chairs that I’d found in one of the chateau’s rooms.
He surveyed the space but said nothing.
Queen V and Prince Albert sniffed around, exploring their new home. I’d gotten them new beds and toys. And I’d filled some bowls with food and water.
They were huge creatures, but they were known as gentle giants for a reason. They’d always been friendly and affectionate with me, and it was nice to have them here.
I gave Queen V a quick pat, glancing back at Graham over my shoulder. I watched him as he surveyed the space, trying to get a read on him.
“Moving on,” I said, desperate to fill the uncomfortable silence. “Bathroom.” It had an outdated toilet with the tank near the ceiling, a cast-iron claw-foot tub, and a sink. “No hot water,” I said quickly, trying to gloss over that fact as I led him toward the bedroom. “And bedroom.”
I spied some bras on the bed before shoving them into the dresser. My cheeks were on fire, and I couldn’t look at him. Thank goodness my wigs were still hidden in my suitcase. If I’d realized I’d be having company, I would’ve taken more care to tidy before I’d left for Mexico.
As it was, the bed was sloppily made, and it was small. And old. It was definitely not as sexy or luxurious as Graham’s penthouse or even the cabin we’d stayed in on Knox’s yacht. My cheeks heated, remembering that night. Remembering the way Graham had touched me, caressed me. Looked at me.
His jaw hardened. “You’ve been living like this for the past year?”
I twisted my hands together, my earlier thoughts forgotten. “When I wasn’t traveling for my blog, yes.”
“What do you mean, there’s no hot water? How do you keep clean? How do you wash your clothes?”
“Laundromat in town.” I glanced away. “And I take a lot of cold showers. Well, baths, actually.”
“Cold—” He opened his mouth, aghast. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish I were.” Though now that Graham was going to be living here with me in such close proximity, the cold baths seemed like more of a necessity. “Honestly, they’re more like lukewarm. You can use the electric kettle to help warm the water, but it takes forever, so I only do it every so often.”
He shook his head, and it sounded like he muttered, “Unacceptable.”
“Look,” I sighed, trying not to visibly flinch at his tone. “I’m sorry it’s not up to your standards. I’ve had to prioritize projects, and this one was relatively low on the list.”
“Not up to my standards?” he scoffed. “I couldn’t give a shit about that. And I get having to prioritize projects, but Lil—” He turned to me, grasping my shoulders. “You’re my wife. You have twenty million dollars at your disposal.”
“For the restoration of the chateau. Not for my personal use.”
“Honestly, I don’t give a fuck what you use it for. But I do expect you to make your comfort a priority.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You expect ?”
“You know what I mean.” He turned back to face me. “But yes, actually, I do insist that you do something about this.” He gestured to the room.
“Because you’re ashamed that I’m living in such squalor.”
“No. Because you deserve better, and I have the means to give it to you.”
I didn’t know whether to be touched or insulted by his statement. Even so, fixing up my current living quarters seemed unnecessarily frivolous. “I don’t want to spend a bunch of time and money fixing up an apartment that will eventually be converted into something else.”
“It wouldn’t have to take long, and the cost is irrelevant.”
My frustration was mounting, my skin growing warm. “It matters to me.”
He leaned in. “I think you forget who I am and what it means to be married to me.”
Oh, I hadn’t forgotten. Before we’d had it out on Knox’s yacht, being married to Graham had meant silent dinners. Nights spent alone.
And while I didn’t want to ruin our tentative peace, I also refused to revert to how things had been. I refused to let Graham call the shots. I refused to be a silent partner in this marriage.
“There’s nothing money can’t buy,” he said.
I scoffed. “I suppose that’s true. I mean, you bought a wife.” I gestured to myself.
“And you sure as hell didn’t come cheap.”
I glared at him. “Ironic then, how cheap you just made me feel.”
I spun away. Done with this conversation. With him.
Entitled. Elitist. Asshole.
“Lily, wait.”
“Why?” I asked. “So you can insult me again?”
“I’m not—” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. I realize now how it might have come across, but that’s not how I meant it. And I’m sorry.”
His earnest apology calmed some of my anger. Not completely, but enough to keep me from fleeing.
“What do you propose, then?” I asked.
“I’m not saying we should spend a lot. But a basic, functional kitchen and bathroom don’t have to cost much. An upgraded bed.” He cleared his throat. “Beds.” He seemed to place extra emphasis on that final “s” and the fact that it was plural.
“I actually ordered a new mattress for you, but it won’t be here for another week. And I ordered you some sheets from the Huxley Grand brand.” Because I knew they were his favorite, and he slept better when he was comfortable.
“Thank you. That was very considerate. But what about you?”
I waved a hand through the air. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You’re my wife. Of course I’m worried about you.”
Because I was his obligation. Graham saw it as his duty to take care of me.
I shouldn’t care. I should be grateful he was so generous. So considerate. Especially considering the fact that our marriage was fake. But somehow, it only made me feel worse.
“This isn’t open for negotiation,” he added.
“News flash, Graham,” I said, crowding him. “That’s not how a relationship works.” I jabbed his chest.
He covered my hand with his, holding it to his heart instead. His eyes searched mine, and it felt as if he were seeking something from me. What? I didn’t know. Because he didn’t want a relationship, didn’t want me. At least not in any capacity other than as his pretend wife.
His response had caught me off guard, but I was determined to stand my ground. “Don’t you remember what we discussed?” I gave him a pointed look, referring to that night without actually mentioning it.
His eyes were hooded, and then he leaned in, his arm brushing against mine as he said, “Oh, I remember everything .”
His breath was warm on my skin, and his nearness sent a riot of visions flitting through my mind. Memories of that night. My mouth went dry. So dry. I licked my lips, and his eyes tracked the movement.
“Then you’ll recall that in this relationship, we are equals,” I said, trying to stay on track.
He stepped closer, and my heart rate picked up. “As if I could forget.”
I forced myself to snap out of this lust-induced haze, though my words came out with more of a bite than I’d intended. “Then start treating me like one.”
“I—” He dropped my hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How is me looking out for you not treating you like an equal? Aren’t people in a relationship supposed to support each other? Take care of each other?”
He seemed genuinely confused. And I had to admit, he made a good point. I just wasn’t used to letting anyone take care of me.
My shoulders relaxed. “I mean, yes. But there’s a way to discuss something without making demands.”
“Okay. How about this? I would like to do a basic renovation of our living quarters to make them more comfortable. And the money for my proposed renovations to our living space wouldn’t come from the restoration budget.”
What?
“I—” I shook my head. “You’ve already done so much. I don’t want you to have to do that.”
“I understand, but you have to realize this is motivated by selfish reasons. We could hire a crew to do the work the next time we’re in LA. It’s not a big project. It shouldn’t take long.”
What he said made sense, but still… “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
I hated the idea of him spending even more money, but I knew he wouldn’t let this go. And if we were going to be spending a significant amount of time here over the next two years, it would be worth the investment.
“Okay,” I finally relented. “Only because I want you to be comfortable while we’re here. You know, given how extra your lifestyle is,” I teased.
He narrowed his eyes at me, crowding me now. “Oh, I see . You think I’m what? Pampered? Spoiled?”
I lifted a shoulder, unable to hide my smirk. I was goading him. I wanted more of this light, playful banter with him.
He narrowed his eyes at me. He didn’t have to say the words “take that back” for me to know that’s what he was thinking.
“You’re sure about the project?” he asked. “I don’t want you to think I’m overstepping or being demanding.”
“Are you ever not demanding?” I teased.
“I’m not the only one who likes control.” He arched a brow in a sexy move that sent a wave of desire through my body. Fuck me.
How could he be both so…infuriating and so, so hot?
I smoothed my hand down my throat, my pulse fluttering beneath my fingertips. He closed the remaining distance between us, his cologne invading my senses. Making my heart beat faster as desire pumped through my veins. He lifted his hand as if to touch me, and I felt the ghost of his caress on my cheek.
For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. Please kiss me. My body was aching for his kiss, his touch.
But then Graham’s phone rang, and I excused myself. After being gone for so long, I had a million things to catch up on. And while I should’ve been focused on everything I needed to accomplish before we had to return to LA in ten days, all I could think about was Graham. And that was exactly why it was a bad idea to mix business with pleasure.